| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Market-Place by Harold Frederic: and saw that it was not the guardsman face at all.
His skin was fresh-hued, and there was a shade of warm
brown in his small, well-ordered moustasche, but his hair,
wavy and worn longer than the fashion, seemed black.
There were perceptible veins of grey in it, though he
had only entered his thirty-fifth year. He was dressed
habitually with the utmost possible care.
The contrast between this personage and the older man
confronting him was abrupt. Thorpe was also tall,
but of a burly and slouching figure. His face,
shrouded in a high-growing, dust-coloured beard,
The Market-Place |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis: money out of tenants who had no money.
Babbitt's virtues as a real-estate broker--as the servant of society in the
department of finding homes for families and shops for distributors of
food--were steadiness and diligence. He was conventionally honest, he kept his
records of buyers and sellers complete, he had experience with leases and
titles and an excellent memory for prices. His shoulders were broad enough,
his voice deep enough, his relish of hearty humor strong enough, to establish
him as one of the ruling caste of Good Fellows. Yet his eventual importance
to mankind was perhaps lessened by his large and complacent ignorance of all
architecture save the types of houses turned out by speculative builders; all
landscape gardening save the use of curving roads, grass, and six ordinary
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Garden Party by Katherine Mansfield: for them. "Look here, Lottie." He turned up a card. "It's got two spots
on it--see? Now, if you put that card in the middle and somebody else has
one with two spots as well, you say 'Hee-haw,' and the card's yours."
"Mine?" Lottie was round-eyed. "To keep?"
"No, silly. Just for the game, see? Just while we're playing." The bull
was very cross with her.
"Oh, Lottie, you are a little silly," said the proud rooster.
Lottie looked at both of them. Then she hung her head; her lip quivered.
"I don't want to play," she whispered. The others glanced at one another
like conspirators. All of them knew what that meant. She would go away
and be discovered somewhere standing with her pinny thrown over her head,
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